


Tales of the War for Freedom

by Athygar



Series: Athygar, expanded worlds [1]
Category: Short Stories - Fandom, side stories - Fandom
Genre: Gen, War Stories, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athygar/pseuds/Athygar
Summary: These chapters are separate short stories for the world of Athygar and the past for expanding the world and history without bogging down my main novel. They will range from the Newpoit seige to the Farwest Ridge Disaster, from the First light to present day Athygar. I hope you find some of these stories bring you to want to read my main work titled The Chronicles of Magia.
Relationships: None
Series: Athygar, expanded worlds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068989





	Tales of the War for Freedom

A package fell into the rough trench, clinking unlike any bomb the combatants have heard. Many dove away from the small box, expecting shrapnel to pierce them at any moment. But none came. A tentative young man stepped forward and picked up the metal box with shacking hands, and found a note attached to it with muddy, crude, tattered string. It was signed to “ whomever commands you on the battlefield “, so the soldier marched through the large expanse of trench and tunnel to the commanding officers trench pit.  
“ Ma’am, a package and note addressing you was dropped over the trench wall.”  
The woman looked up at the rookie, her eyes sunken with her newfound illness,  
“ pass it here, i shall inquire the poor souls we fight.”  
She tore the weak string from the box and set the tin aside, opening the folded paper to find a surprising letter addressing her.

To the brave soldiers who we fight faceless,

We have been hearing the soldier whom sings with a heavenly voice since our first night in the bastards war and have been soothed by its sound, our dead have gone into oblivion at peace hearing it. We have not heard it in some time and wish to inquire the safety of this individual. If we have struck them down, send this package back with a note informing us this as my men wish to mourn them. If they have fallen injured or ill, my men and myself send our prayers to mercy herself that they recover as well as some supplies we hope will aid in their recovery.  
None want to fight this battle that we bare, once again we pray to mercy herself that our ears will bare witness to the voice that sang out for these gruelling months.  
I offer this in peace.

Sargent Malko of the Fysher Isles 

The woman blinked in surprise, and opened the tin to her side. Within the battered box sat hard to find medicine and simple first aid supplies that were growing scarcer each day. She took out the roll of bandage and the small bit of spared medical tape, the suturing needle and what little medicine had been spared for her before she placed the lid tightly over the remaining supplies and took out her journal. Flipping to an unused page she reclaimed her pen.

To the gracious souls whom spared me such kindness,

The medicine will do me well, you have not struck me down nor injured my being. The cold winter of our unforgiving north has but damaged my health, inhibiting my singing for a time. It pleases me to hear i have given peace to yours lost as well as mine, and when i recover i shall take that task up promptly once more. You offer of peace has not been lost on me, i assure you. In good grace i will forbid my men from using our bombs on your numbers until the battle is over.  
I send all unneeded supplies back in hopes of saving one of your own as you have mine.  
I take your offering and send one in kind,

Captian Kalipso of North-facing Ridge.

The captain folded the letter and placed it against the worn box, tying it together with a well worn band of blue cloth. She rose from her desk and went to her second in command.  
“ Sergo, find me a soldier willing to drop this back at the opposite trench.”  
She passed the tin to the man, caught off guard.  
“ yes ma’am. Ill send Clëì over promptly. may I ask what it is?”  
“ it is supplies sent to us we don’t need. I need not explain further.”  
The captain returned to her desk where she took the medicine, the magia instilled within burning its way down her throat like a hearty whiskey. She sent the bandages and needle to her healers and turned to the plans her superiors wanted to play out, a bloodbath no-one wanted part in. She tore the papers off the wall and cast them in the fire to her side.  
“ this battle ends now.”

—————————————————————————————

Days later the snow overwhelmed the opposite trenches. She sat above ground, watching the fires struggling to stay lit. She took a deep breath, and sang. Her voice mixed with her magia as it carried over no mans land. The fire turned from a cool dying red to the warm silver glow of faëfyre. Her voice invoking a calm she hoped would carry the poor souls of her combatants into the next day.

Letters continued ranging from trading supplies to offering aide as winter set in with his full force. Soon she had enough. With night having fallen and her song not yet started, she climbed the trench wall to no mans land and once again sang for all to hear. She walked across the snow covered waste between camps, the opposite trenches too filled with snow to be used. She got to the outer perimeter of the camp and called into the maze of tents.  
“ Sargent! This is Capitan Kalipso! I wish to speak of terms of surrender with you! I am unarmed and alone!”  
Silence greeted her for a few moments before a tall man wrapped in a poorly maintained coat of fur approached. He opened his arms, palm facing her to show his unarmed state as well. He stood a few feet from her, his back to the camp.  
“ captain, what terms do you wish to haggle? You have the superior forces, why surrender to us?”  
She smiled a weary thing, and elaborated.  
“ if you surrendered to me my superiors would have me order your deaths, if we go with you, everyone will be spared the death that waits in those mountain for us all. This plateau is idle ground that can be made into a P.O.W camp and your men could be spared the rest of the war. It is the only solution that will save more lives than not.” She held out her hand, wrapped in a old glove, to the sergeant before her.  
“ do you accept these offers in person? Or would you prefer in writing?”  
A chuckle came from the imposing man as he clasped her hand with his own.  
“ i think in person would do fine.”

The next day the camp was moved to the flat plateau of no mans land. Both groups sat and worked together, spinning tales with one another and working as quite the team. The sergeant offered his hand to the captain once again, in-front of the whole of both groups. His hand was bare, other than the worn blue cloth wrapped around his palm. She took his hand, hers bare other than the tattered string woven across her palm. The camp became the last fortification on the plains before the Northern Twins.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story from the wnd of the great war. I was inspired by a story from i belive WW2 where a soldier would sing at night and had a beautiful voice, but got sick during a battle. The opposite forces dropped medicine and a note over into his trench to ask if he was alright or not. It is a really human moment ofter overlooked by the bloody history of war itself. This will be one of hopefully many stories to help enhance the world i want to create and give other stories a chance to be expanded on. Hope you enjoyed!


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